


To Swab or Not to Swab

by froggy (therealfroggy), Niektete (therealfroggy)



Series: Pirate Trilogy [3]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Prison Break
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/Niektete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third and final instalment in the <i>Pirate Trilogy</i>, written back in 2007 for a friend who requested Michael Scofield/Jack Sparrow. It's time to do some actual work around the ship!</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Swab or Not to Swab

“No, look, love, you're supposed to pull that tight,” Jack said, grinning at Michael.

The engineer frantically put his entire weight into it and pulled as hard as he could on the rope. The sail flapped and he was almost tugged off his feet. “I'm trying! What's wrong with this thing?”

Jack shrugged, then called over one of the pirates. “Here, mate.”

As the large pirate ( _Why are they all so big? It's like I landed in Camp Giant!_ ) took over the sail, Jack gestured for Michael to follow him and swaggered along the ship. They reached the rudder and Jack waved a hand over it.

“Can you hold this steady? Don't let it move at all, just... hold it?”

Michael looked at the wheel-shaped construction. A fairly simple task. “Sure.”

He grabbed hold of two of the handles, and the gruff man already steering let go. Michael gave a yell of pain when the rudder turned violently and, since he was holding on for all his worth, slamming him into the deck. The gruff pirate growled something like, “Ye bloody useless -” at him and grabbed a hold of the rudder, righting it.

Jack shook his head. “Not even that.”

Michael scowled. “It's heavy.”

For two whole days now, they'd been traipsing around the ship, trying to find something useful for Michael to do. Jack had offered to keep him in his cabin all day (and night) and let him “ply his trade” there, but Michael insisted he should do something more... constructive.

“Well, there's always swabbing,” Jack concluded, and Michael sighed. Swabbing. He'd dreaded that prospect ever since he woke up the first morning.

Still, ten minutes later he found himself armed with a bucket of semi-soapy water and a filthy brush. Sighing, Michael got to his knees by a large stain on the deck (which looked disturbingly like blood) and began scrubbing.

***

“Darlin', stop.”

Michael looked up at Jack, confused. He'd only been going for twenty minutes or so, and he knew he wasn't doing such a bad job – the stain was almost the same shade as the rest of the wood, now. The deck in his general vicinity also looked a lot cleaner. “What?”

Jack's eyes were burning, his chest heaving beneath that deliciously open shirt, and Michael felt his mouth go a little dry. The pirate's sneer wasn't even mocking; it was more... frustrated?

“Stop. You'll be in the galley, darlin'; out here you're only ruining the men's, uh, morale,” Jack said, his voice gravelly. Michael's raised eyebrow only elicited a frown, so Michael got to his feet. He felt sweaty and filthy, but at least he was being useful.

“Where do I wash off?”

Jack looked taken aback. “Love, you can't be washing every time you turn around. You'll be cooking.”

Michael looked equally shocked. “But I'm dirty! I have to at least wash the filth off my hands and face; I can't cook like this! It's not sanitary!”

Jack waved him to silence with that amusing, feminine gesture of his hand and Michael followed him mid-ship to the galley. He opened the door, and Michael followed him inside.

There was no-one there, something Michael found confusing, as there were so many people everywhere else.

“Why can't I swab?” Michael asked, looking around. There was a very, very old-fashioned, black stove (with a small wood furnace for heating) and a good deal of pots and pans lining the walls on shelves and pegs. There was also a narrow work-bench opposite the stove.

“Darlin'...” Jack leaned in close and purred conspiratorially in Michael's ear, “you were delaying the entire crew. Didn't you see how they were looking at you?”

Michael stared at the pirate. “Looking at me? I was only swabbing, for God's sake! What did I do this time?”

Jack cleared his throat. “It was more a question of _how_ you did it, love.”

Michael considered this, then his jaw slackened in realization. On his knees, swabbing fervently... Anyone would have looked like something out of a porn movie. But then again...

“Don't people swab all the time?” Michael asked desperately. “I can't have... can't have looked that bad!”

“Oh, you didn't look bad at all,” Jack grinned, moving in to press his hips against the engineer's. He certainly didn't seem to think Michael looked bad in any way. “But pirates don't come as pretty as you, darlin'.”

Michael blushed, smiling. “They don't, huh?”

Jack's breath was hot on his ear, and Michael turned his head to kiss along the pirate's bearded chin until he found his lips. Even now, they tasted of rum.

“Have you been drinking?” Michael asked incredulously. “Jack, it's not even noon!”

Jack frowned again, and Michael felt a spark of arousal shoot through his groin. “I know it's not noon. Why would I want to drink only at noon?”

Michael rolled his eyes, then kissed the pirate again. “Alcoholic, anyone?”

Jack grinned. “Talking rubbish again.” Apparently deciding that was more than enough foreplay, the pirate reached for Michael's jeans...

... and jumped back from him as if burnt when someone thudded around outside, a moment before a scraggly head appeared in the doorway.

“Cap'n, we be needin' the course.”

Jack nodded importantly. “You'll find everything in here,” he told Michael. “The pantry's that way.”

And then he left with the other pirate, leaving Michael riled up and confused in the galley.

***

That night, the pirates didn't eat hot food, because by the time the first one dared to take a bite, it had gone cold.

Michael frowned. He'd made an effort to make them a good meal, and they didn't even want to taste it? It was only lasagne, for heaven's sake!

Not that he'd have served it at home. He didn't find enough vegetables for anything at all, but there was bread and there was some pasta strips kind of like noodles (he figured the ship must have sailed by China, if his food history knowledge was intact) and meat. He'd never used a meat grinder before, but it was interesting. For the sauce, he'd used tomatoes (old and wrinkly, but at least not mouldy) and some sweet peppers. The only cheese he'd found was stale, but he chopped it up anyway and spread it on top of the dish.

“Well?” he said, giving the closest pirate an encouraging smile. “It's lasagne. It won't bite.”

Jack scowled at the food and gave Michael a look. “What's in it?”

Michael gave the captain a frosty glare and took a bite of his own lasagne. It didn't taste as bad as it should have, considering the ingredients he'd had to work with. “Ground meat, pasta, tomatoes and sweet peppers. And cheese.”

All the pirates stared at him from around the table.

“Why?” said one of them; the only small one as far as Michael could tell (and he was a midget).

“Because it tastes good,” Michael snapped. “Just eat it, will you?”

Grumbling, the pirates carefully picked up their spoons and forks. One by one, they carefully took a bite, Jack being the last one, until everyone was chewing.

“Well?” Michael asked again, curious about their reaction.

He didn't get a reply. Half a second after he opened his mouth, the first pirate grinned at him and began wolfing down his food at an alarming rate. Within seconds, they were all eating as if they'd never seen food before, even Jack gobbling eagerly at his dinner.

Michael grinned smugly. He knew they'd like it. At least there was one thing he could do aboard this floating freak show.

***

Later, as Michael was finishing up with scrubbing the dishes, the galley door opened again. It was Jack. Michael turned to the pirate expectantly, but he remained in the door, merely looking at the other man.

“What?” Michael said self-consciously.

“We're on night watch duty,” Jack said, grinning so his teeth glinted in the moonlight coming through the window.

Michael shrugged, then followed the pirate out onto the deck. “Aren't more people on duty?”

“No,” Jack said simply. “Just Geezer in the look-out.”

Michael sniggered at the other man's pirate name, but desisted at Jack's frown. God, that frown was so hot!

They made their way across the deck in the direction of Jack's cabin, but before they'd even moved ten steps, Michael was swiped off his feet as Jack came at him from the side, driving them both against the railing.

“Watch it!” Michael began, but Jack silenced him with a greedy kiss until his head spun.

“I've been waiting for this since you started swabbing,” Jack panted, and Michael instantly grew hard in his jeans. “Oh, darlin', you can't possibly know how much I would like for you to...”

And Jack's vocabulary didn't seem adequate to describe what he wanted Michael to do, but the engineer got a fair idea from the way Jack was trying to get his own trousers off while bending Michael over the railing.

_Oh. Holy. Shit._

Michael eagerly bent over, fingers working frantically to open his jeans, then push them down. “Jack,” he breathed, “is this what you want?”

Jack pressed up against him from behind, and Michael could feel the pirate's bare skin against his own. Hot, sweaty and hard.

_Oh, wait, that'd be his cock, not his skin._

“I reckon this is exactly what I want,” Jack stuttered as Michael reached behind himself to close his hand around the pirate's straining length. “Oh, darlin'!”

Michael grinned and released Jack to carefully push two fingers inside himself, wincing a little but still pushing them in as far as they would go. “Give me a second.”

Jack watched in perverted fascination as his strange passenger toyed with himself, scissoring his fingers, moaning with delight at something the pirate had never even contemplated a man could – or would – do.

He was so hard it was only desire for the other man that kept him from completing his own pleasure with a few strokes.

“Now, Jack,” Michael begged. “Now!”

For a heartbeat, the pirate stood rooted to the spot, then he quickly batted Michael's hand out of the way and Michael could feel hot flesh pressing against his opening again.

He groaned as Jack pushed inside him, riding a wave of equal parts pleasure and pain. The other man was so hard, pressing into him and spreading him wide, and he, too, had been desperate for this since before noon.

“Darlin',” Jack panted, rocking shallowly into the engineer. “Darlin', how come you let me do this?”

Michael's eyes rolled back as Jack hit his prostate, probably unintentionally. “Do... do what?”

Jack slammed hard into him and Michael moaned desperately. “This.”

“It's... it's so good, that's why,” Michael laughed, bracing himself more firmly on the railing as the pirate's thrusts gained speed. “Oh, shit! Jack!”

And Jack fucked him, hard and fast, until Michael was whimpering with each thrust.

“Ah... darlin', I'm...”

Jack's voice died in his throat as Michael clenched around him, bucking his hips a little. “Fuck me, Jack! Hard!”

Jack's mind didn't register the meaning of anything Michael said; it was too busy progressing the sensations. Michael felt the other man stretch him until it almost hurt and then some; they were pushing and pressing and pulling and Michael's head swam with the intense pleasure of Jack hard inside him.

Reaching down to stroke himself, Michael began jerking off in time to Jack's thrusts, always begging for harder and faster. Shockwaves shot through him and he could almost feel it now; that sweet edge just... beyond...

Jack rammed into him hard again and Michael screamed; he could feel himself coming, pulsing, shooting over his hand and constricting around Jack.

“Jack! Jack, oh holy shit, Jack!”

Teeth dug into his shoulder, through his shirt, and Michael grunted. _So rough! So... so good!_ Jack began rutting against him in earnest; quicker, more shallow thrusts until Michael could feel his breath hitch.

“Darlin'!” Jack exclaimed, his voice quivering, his breath escaping him. Frantic bucking and then Michael could feel white-hot wetness explode inside him, pumping, as Jack grunted harshly into his neck and clawed at his hips.

“Unnnph!”

Michael would have orgasmed at the sound of that groan from Jack's throat, if he wasn't already feeling the sticky warmth covering his hand.

“Oh, darlin', it doesn't make sense but you're much better than any wench I've tried my hand at,” Jack panted, still languorously sliding into Michael. Then he pulled out, slowly, and stepped back. Michael couldn't find the strength to stand up just yet, and so opted to stay as he was for a moment.

“All to do with anatomy, I assure you,” Michael chuckled breathlessly. “Tighter muscle and all that.”

When he finally turned around, Michael was greeted by the sight of one Jack Sparrow, tucking himself back in his trousers and staring appreciatively at Michael's dishevelled state. Michael blushed.

“You still don't like men, I suppose?” he tried, blushing but grinning at the pirate.

Jack grinned back. “Oh, I don't. Except when they look like you and have lips that... well.”

Michael sighed contentedly and glanced sidelong at the captain of the ship. He really was rather handsome, in his drunken way. And the eye liner, of course, made him look even better.

“Want to try these lips right now?” he said, smirking at the pirate's double take.

“Now? Darlin', we just -”

“I was joking,” Michael said hurriedly. “I meant a kiss.”

Jack leaned in and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I'll try them tomorrow.”

***

But Jack didn't try Michael's lips the following day; instead, he waited until they were alone in Jack's bunk and then reminded Michael of a certain nine-tailed device that made the engineer blush but also grow so hard he begged for Jack to perform both this and the other lascivious act on and with him.

Michael sported red gashes across his back for the next two days, while Jack had to finally button up his shirt to conceal the dark love-bites Michael had made all over his torso.


End file.
